


Novena

by neichan



Category: NCIS, NCIS: Los Angeles
Genre: Alternate Universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-23
Updated: 2010-06-23
Packaged: 2019-02-05 16:52:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12798492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neichan/pseuds/neichan
Summary: NCIS round-robin





	1. Chapter 1 - author: Neichan

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Haven, the archivist: This story was originally archived at [Fandom Haven Story Archive (FHSA)](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Fandom_Haven_Story_Archive), was scheduled to shut down at the end of 2016. To preserve the archive, I began working with the OTW to transfer the stories to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2017. If you are this creator and the work hasn't transferred to your AO3 account, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Fandom Haven Story Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/fhsa/profile).

God, come to my assistance.

Lord, make haste to help me.

 

03:59 a.m.

Washington, D.C.

Nine hours before deployment.

 

Sister Agnes was the first up. It was the time of day when God spoke most clearly to her, in the serene quiet of the early morning. Before the hustle and bustle, before the voices of her sisters, before the teeming mass of the needy filed in to the Mission to fill their hungry bellies. And for a moment to listen to Father Greg read the the daily

sermon to them, a vain attempt to fill their empty hearts.

 

Not many listened. They were weary, beaten down. Some beyond hearing any message, even one of hope. Of love. She did not judge them for it. God had come to her early, when she was just a child. She had never wanted more than to do his work, had never doubted her path. Her hand was his hand while she tended these desperate men, women and children. Her ear was his ear when she listened to their woe. Her heart was his heart when she prayed for and at times with each one of them.

 

She would not change a single thing about her life. It was, she believed, as God wanted it to be.

 

She moved across the cool tiles of the floor, her sandals nearly silent. She was birdlike small but quick for all of her 80 years, her vision not sharp as it had been when she was a girl growing up in Madrid. But only last year there had been that surgery, and she could see better now than she had in twenty years.

 

The knock was earlier than expected. There was no food ready to set out in the dining hall. But she could find cereal, some milk for a hungry one who could not wait. She reached the heavy wood door and opened it.

 

The man was perhaps thirty, dressed in a scruffy olive drab coat that reminded her of the ones young men used to wear when they were in the service. It bore the evidence of hundreds of washings, faded, the stenciled name unreadable but for the first letter which she was sure was a B. He was taller than she, but mostly everyone was now.

 

His face could have been called good-looking. Unlined, a faint smile on his lips. Involuntarily she smiled back. It was that kind of smile. Sweet. Kind.

 

Until she looked up into his eyes.

 

He spoke while she was trying to decipher the look that was hiding in the darkness of his gaze.

 

"I am here for Miss Abby Scuito."

 

@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

 

Anthony Michael Dinozzo juggled the backpack, jacket, coffee and his keys. It was too warm to wear the jacket, the haze of heat and humidity had barely been relieved by the night hours. It stuck his shirt to his skin within minutes of his leaving his condo. He shouldn't have bothered with a shower. He already needed another one.

 

He'd not gotten as much sleep as he would have liked, there was a lot to think about. But the lack of sleep had been compensated for by the evening he'd spent talking to the person who was his sun, moon and stars all rolled into one. It had all been talking, so far, when he thought of even hoping for more his hands shook, his skin pricked with

perspiration, and his mouth went dry. Tonight that was going to change.

 

Being in love was not an emotional state that he was familiar with.Jeanne was as close as he'd come. It had taken months of therapy for him to realize that while he loved her in a way, it had been as much about guilt as love. Actually more about guilt. Tony had hurt her. He had wanted to love her, he wanted it so much, but he'd not been able to take that last step. There were people and things that mattered more. It was the first step to admitting what he truly wanted.

 

Tossing the summer-weight jacket into the passenger seat he lowered the heavy pack to the floorboard. He carefully inserted the grande, low fat , half caf, cinnamon latte into the cup holder. Then he slid into the driver's seat, fastening the safety belt with a decisive click. He started the engine and revved it once then put the car into gear.

 

He drove quickly, the streets unclogged at this rarefied time of the morning. He arrived at the NCIS yard, displayed his ID when asked, then pulled into the lot to park. He turned the key to off and was about to withdraw it and gather his things when he froze in place.

 

He nearly jumped out of his skin at the beep. He'd never heard it before. Nor the voice.

 

"Good Morning, Agent DiNozzo. Do no get out of your seat. Do not unfasten your belt. If you do it will be the last action you ever take. Under your seat connected to a pressure pad is an explosive device. It can be detonated in more than one way."

 

Tony froze in his seat. His heart rate picked up, but he brought it down with a few deep breaths. He started wondering how he was going to get out of this situation. Because he refused to die. Not now. Not when he was on the verge of finding the one person who he wanted to be with for the rest of his life.

 

"Please listen carefully." The voice from his CD player said. And he did.

 

@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

 

Special Agent Jethro Gibbs was about to enter the NCIS building when he saw Dinozzo sitting in his car. Oddly, Tony was sitting absolutely still, not moving. It was completely unlike him, the immobility, it stopped Gibbs in his tracks and made him turn back towards the parking lot.

 

Tony didn't look up as he approached. He didn't seem to notice Gibbs until Jethro tapped on the window. Then he started, his eyes flying up to meet his boss'. The pupils were dilated, huge and dark, sweat dewed his face. Gibbs saw his lips move, he read the word without being able to hear it.

 

"Boss." Soundless. There was definitely something wrong. Then the second word explained it all. "Bomb."


	2. Chapter 2  author: Lokemele

Deciding he must be one of her NCIS co-workers, Sister Agnes said, "She's not here, young man. Have you tried her apartment?"

 

"She wasn't there. Do you know of anywhere else she might be at this time of day?"

 

Sister Agnes might have lived a sheltered life, but she was far from stupid. "If you're going to be asking questions like that, young man, I'll have to see some ID."

 

"Sorry, ma'am," the young man said sheepishly, "I'm not used to flashing my badge when I'm working." He pulled a wallet from inside his jacket and flipped it open.

 

The old nun read it carefully before saying, "The only place I can think of her being at this early hour, Agent Callen, would be at her lab at the Navy Yard."

 

@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

 

But Abby wasn't at the Navy Yard. In fact, she wasn't in DC at all.

 

Her abductor carefully adjusted the camera so that Abby was clearly in focus and any identifying features of the room, such as windows, were out of frame or out of focus. The abductor checked the image on the computer, nodded in satisfaction, captured it, added text, and sent it on its way.

 

@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

 

Gibbs was on the phone, explaining to the security officer that he better *damn well* get off his ass and call the PD, the FD, and the EOD, as well as getting the building evacuated, NOW, when his phone started beeping to indicate he had an incoming picture. Hoping he had made his point, he hung up, promising himself he'd call back if he'd didn't see any action being taken.

 

As the image uploaded to his phone and he saw what it was, his heart nearly stopped in fright.

 

It was a picture of Abby, sitting in a metal chair which was bolted to the floor of the room. Her hands were pulled behind her and handcuffed to the back of the chair, and each leg was chained to one of the front legs of the chair. Under the chair was what was clearly a bomb with a timer clearly visible. The text added to the picture was hard to read, but Gibbs squinted and was able to make out:

 

STAY AND SAVE THAT ONE, OR COME AND SAVE THIS ONE. YOU HAVE ONE HOUR.

TELL NO ONE. DIRECTIONS TO FOLLOW.

 

His phone beeped again, indicating a text message, and Gibbs snarled as he read the directions. Even with the way he drove, it would take a good 40 minutes to get to the location specified. He'd have to leave right now if he was to have any chance to save Abby.

 

Clutching the phone in his hand, he looked up into DiNozzo's panicked eyes and made his decision.


	3. Chapter 3  author: Patricia

A knock on the door startled Crawford and he growled at the man who came in to his living room. “Well, what do you have for me?”

 

The young man handed him three pictures, then explained. “The silver-haired man is Special Agent Gibbs as you already know. The younger man is Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo, Jr. The young woman is Abigail Scuito, Forensics expert. Those two,” he gestured at the two young people, “are the closest ones to Gibbs.”

 

“I infiltrated NCIS and listened to the talk around me. Then I

befriended one of the security guards who filled me in on those three.”

 

“All right, tell me about the man and woman.”

 

“Okay, Miss Scuito was at NCIS at the time you were arrested by Gibbs. DiNozzo came to NCIS two years later. He was recruited by Gibbs from the Baltimore PD and has been at NCIS ever since.”

 

Crawford was silent, staring at the three pictures. “What do these two do on their time off?”

 

“Miss Scuito goes clubbing. She also bowls, but when she does, it’s with nuns.”

 

Crawford picked up the two pictures “She bowls with nuns?” The other man nodded. He raised the picture of the man questioningly, “This one?”

 

“Not much. He doesn’t seem to go out much except over to Gibbs’ house quite often and ends up most times spending the night at his house.”

 

“Hmmm. Lovers?”

 

“Not that I could tell.”

 

“Hmmm.”

 

“All right, what about the materials I need for the bombs?”

 

“Right here in this box. Everything you told me to get is there.”

 

Crawford picked up the box and carried it to the other room. He returned to the living room and picked up the three pictures and returned to the bedroom. He started laying out the materials that he would be using to construct the bombs along with the tools. He stopped what he was doing to look over at Gibbs’ picture.

 

“I am going to make you pay for what you did.” Then he laughed a truly evil laugh that would send chills down anyone’s spine.


	4. Chapter 4  author: Neichan

Revelation 6:8

And I looked, and behold a pale horse:

and his name that sat on him was Death,

and Hell followed with him.

 

 

It had been years since he'd been in DC. He remembered why he didn't like it as soon as he stepped outside of the airport building and stepped towards the sleek, dark sport's car waiting at the kerb. Efficiently he stowed his bags in the boot and slid into the seat. The driver's side was of course on the left instead of the right, but he had been in the US often enough it didn't trouble him. He smoothly pulled into traffic. Time was of the essence.

 

It was luck indeed that had him on the East Coast of the US this time. The call had come to him less than half an hour ago. He was no more than fifteen minutes away from his target. The dossier had been pared down to just the basic facts.

 

Werner Crawford. White supremacist. Out for revenge, intent on doing everything in his power to bring Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs to his knees. Current whereabouts unknown; current actions, kidnapping, imprisonment, terrorist threats, bomb-making.

 

Which was why he was here. His talent was finding the un-findable. The hidden. No matter where they were. Then eliminating them. With prejudice. No matter who was protecting them. It was a art form he had perfected. One he refined, one he enjoyed.

 

He was used to being called out at any hour, any time. The only surprise had been who was calling in the favor. He had not seen this friend for many years. Not since he had lay dying on a metal gurney padded only by several torn towels that had been boiled clean by tribeswomen. The man who stood between him and death twenty years ago, had not been a young man even then. But he had been skilled. James would never forget those true blue eyes, calm, sure. Nor the lengthy stories that had been the background to his pain as he slipped under the anesthesia.

 

Now the favor was called in. James turned out of the parking structure and headed towards his destination. He would not fail. He never did.

 

@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

 

Tony had a special problem. He couldn't get out of his car, he couldn't stand, he couldn't get away from the circle of at least twenty men who stood around from a presumably safe distance, nor the five who were significantly closer. All of which meant that no matter how bad he wanted to take a piss, he couldn't. He sighed. His favorite coffee was cold. Gibbs had gone. He was as alone as he had ever been, despite the crowd around him.

 

McGee was still here, standing behind a blast shield, his smooth childlike features as grim as Tony had ever seen them. He had replaced Gibbs, carrying a large pad of white paper and a black felt tip pen. Tony had not been able to stop the sound that issued from his throat when he saw Gibbs go. Nor the heat that prickled behind his eyes.

 

Gibbs was leaving him, now, when he might have only minutes to live. Gibbs was going. Tony had all but given up then. His head dropping back onto the head rest. He stared straight up at the ceiling of his car making no effort to control the tears that ran down his cheeks.

 

Gibbs was leaving him to die, alone.

 

Nothing really mattered then. It was too hot in the car, and since it didn't matter now, Tony unrolled the window, not listening to the shouts from outside yelling for him to stop, not to move. He didn't care.

 

More shouting, he turned his head listlessly. Ducky was walking across the parking lot. A man had hold of his arm, but Ducky brushed the hand off, sharing an utterly freezing look with the man, who dropped his hold with obvious reluctance. Then, unencumbered, the ME continued towards Tony.

 

Ducky didn't pause until he stood at the side of the car. He looked down, Tony looked up. Swallowed hard. Made no attempt to hide the tears swimming in his eyes, or to stop them from running down his face. He let them flow. Ducky's face what worried, his grey blue eyes full of pain and understanding.

 

"Oh, Anthony." Ducky murmured. "Don't give up hope."

 

"He's gone, Duck." Tony didn't need to say who was gone. There was only one person who could reduce him to this state. Ducky nodded.

 

"He had to go. Abby is being held hostage as well. There is help here for you, but Abby, she is alone. Gibbs has less than one hour to reach her. Director Vance is sending an EOD team after him." Ducky bent down. Lowered his voice. "He would never willingly leave you if there was any alternative. It is tearing him apart having to make this choice."

 

Ducky risked the lightest touch, his finger smoothing along, gathering the salty wetness. Tony gazed up at him, his broken heart in his eyes.

 

"He loves you." Ducky said the only thing he could. "Don't give up. Don't do this to him. If you die, he will die with you. He lost Shannon, and Kelly, he cannot bear to lose you, too."

 

Tony saw the truth in the faded eyes. He drew in a deep breath. Nodded. "OK. I can do this. I can." He nodded again. Then he turned his head to look into the older man's face again. "One thing, Duck. I really gotta take a piss."

 

Ducky smiled. "I'll see what I can do." He said, turning around and heading back towards the anxious group of spectators.

 

 

@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

 

G fought the wheel, the rental's tires squealed as he negotiated the turn too fast. He didn't know where he was headed. But he had to move. He had been too late. He depressed the phone control.

 

"Sam!" He shouted. "Abby is gone. Crawford has her. Tell Eric I need a location on this number." He rattled it off. "Gibbs got a videofile of Abby from it. She is sitting on top of a bomb. I need a location."

 

"G. What are you doing? Tell me where you are. I thought we agreed I would back you up. That is why I am here. Damn it. G, I am your partner." Sam Hanna's fingers were flying over the key board. "You got that, Eric?" he asked, his voice in control, but threaded with tension. He typed, "I need location on G's car. NOW."

 

"Got it." Eric said, then he frowned, looking up into the computer camera, his eyes worried. He typed even as he was speaking. "He's moving fast." He wrote, then right now, at the corner of Elm and Hawthorne." He said aloud. "I have that location for you, G...."

 

Sam Hanna was already out the door, listening in on his headset. No way was his partner going to get there without him for back up. Sam had seen what was left of the last agent Crawford took out. The remains had looked like barbequed meat. Sam wasn't going to let that happen to G. He remembered the shooting. He remembered holding his partner, not able to do anything but call for help, willing to shield G with him own body, with his won life, but it had been too late. G had been shot, G had been dying. Sam Hanna refused to go through it, nearly losing his partner and best friend again.

 

He ~couldn't~ let that happen to G.


End file.
